Nothing at all

Time slipped through her sweaty palms
And she slipped through her existence
Pleasing and laughing
Her demented self
Dragged itself in the motionless calms
She feared the fire, as it chased her
Every candle she lit, burnt her down
Sometimes slowly, sometimes at once
Her charred remains fell on the tired earth
And she rose again to walk
She lifted her hands and touched the humid air
It touched her back
And ran down her neck as a curious drop
To disappear in the melancholy of her skin
She laughed again
The wind tried to plait the whims of her hair
And the grass wept below her naked feet
She felt nothing and spoke much
Of care and promises
She sifted her heart through the sieves of hope
To find a morsel of feeling to feed upon
Hungrily she looked, starved and white
But alas! Everything she had devoured
To bring her back after she lay dead every time
Her ghost smiled and shrieked
She fell down on indifferent sands
the Sun in conversation with musing clouds
About a woman who is so dead yet not
The sands took pity at last
And hid her under their whispering prisms
Come they said, come back to where you belonged.
The candles melted away.

dough work.. :D by Rohu...

in Euphooooria

PiNg Cobra

to BEE or not to BEE

Krishna in colours

The blue eyed BUOY

He LOST his legs, because i had lost the patience...

Because she is green with envy..

Wrigley s

Its a biiiiiigggg world...

ho ja Rangeela re... :D

BEEsy.. 

Mum named her ROBILI ;)

Crazy FrOg... :P

For making me, me

If I were a butterfly, an entomologist would probably pin me up
If I were a robin in a tree, they'll chop it down and export to Europe
If I were a fish in the sea,they'll swallow me whole with a warm cup o tea
So I just thank you Father for making me, me

For I gave me a dart and I gave me the style
I gave me Satan and I made me hostile
And I just thank you Father for making me, me

If I were an elephant,they'll make ivory idols my precious tusk
If I were a kangaroo, you know i'll only end up in a zoo
If I were an octopus, they'll cook me up without any fuss
So I just thank you Father for making me, me

For i made me so smart and i made me so guile
I gave me hatred and they call themselves vile
And I just thank you Father for making me, me

If I were a wiggly worm,i'll be broken into 2 and thrown in the farm
If I were a fuzzy wuzzy bear, i'll be skinned in no time to bleeding despair
If I were a crocodile, I'll be found on designer bags, forget my Nile
So I just thank you Father for making me, me

For i gave me the art  i have you to beguile
I gave me Envy and i made hope futile
And I just thank you Father for making me, me....

The Sparrow

And so the wounded sparrow
Came to me and wept

Said Satan and Moloch were men

Hope away from the planet swept

Bleeding through dying whispers

She spoke of her loving nest

Her son and daughter lonely

Waiting for the warmth of her chest

She smiled to remember there was happiness once

In the realms of her little world and beyond

When brothers and sisters in chorus sang

And beings and birds shared a loving bond

But now fires were raging

Their were shrieks, and pain and grief

But now men thirsted blood alone

And lived in souls of a terrible belief

She had seen them lying in blent red heaps

She had seen them hunt and laugh

She told me what one sows, he reaps

And prayed i write it on her epitaph

I questioned her why then little thing

Are you dying with the deeds of mindless men

She laughed and stared at her bleeding wing

Because i had prayed for a happy heaven

In this world answer me if wise you are

Can i be happy to breathe and sing

In this world black, bitter and dour

Will my loved children ever want to swing

I will go now to a happier place

And they shall come to me soon i know

If you see them, please remember to say

That their mother sleeps on a blissful bow

My tear dropped in her eye and ran down

But it neither moved nor blinked

On wet earth i lay her, in a quiet grieving brown

And what she had asked, on a paper I inked

The rain washed away her forgotten words

She embraced her loving earth

In the grey skies sighed the lonely birds

and I never saw her children.

Letter to the Tumor.. PART 1

Okay, so i am not sure whether you are hiding in my spine or sitting at the top of my touchy adrenals or smoking in some other quiet muscle. And for all the mess that i have been going through for the past two months you refuse to take any blame. That damned hollow abominable machine kept torturing me and the mother  for a good two hours and a half while you were out there somewhere sniggering at my plight. I was only half the the human i am when i came out but you had no pity. Whether they did a thin slice or a thick slice, you just made a sandwich out of it and gobbled it up. Then the poor doc looks at my bp of a 220/170 and smiles helplessly. MORON
and of all the names that could exist in the world, you had to be called something  like PHEOCHROMOCYTOMA. :
What does this mean dude? for all your impressive uselessness that you have proudly exhibited in the past few weeks. if you had been a person, i swear, i would locked you up in a room and played non stop Reshamiya songs, full volume. You would then know what it feels to be in an MRI machine for three hours, bladder full... :/
And to top it all, you refuse to be malignant,so i cant even feel melodramatic and give good speeches which people would listen to and praise me. You don't even guarantee me substantial attention. Only minutes of insanely high blood pressure, this vahiyat backache and and sulking relatives. You know you are as faltu as Left Ventricular Concentric Hypertrophy. :P
dude ya... I've not had a morsel of good adventure in life. and you are certainly not my idea of adventure. I know you love my adrenals or my spinal cord or whatever, but attachment of this sort is not worth it..Google laproscopy if you feel like knowing what my funny little surgeon feels like doing to you. and certainly, do Google yourself, yeah that's what you look like. :P

Yours Unfaithfully
Rohuness

My Fair Lady

On a delightful evening I was sitting with a bunch of people in whose company you could do things as futile as noticing what a TV advertisement has to say. It was then that I realized that I was practically supposed to be an outcast. Reason, I don’t have a skin color that can double up as an emergency light.

Well, I will agree that the bias for fair skin is something that does very often try to lay its hands on my throat. It hasn’t really bothered me much, but yes, honestly it can get on your nerves sometimes. And if you share the shade of my skin but not my indifference, you could be in trouble.


Not surprisingly, some of the most desirable young women in the industry are dusky. I will not take up the gargantuan task of listing their names but yes I would certainly like to appreciate these women, their confidence and their good sense in not wasting time and money on being fair and whatever. Today they are where they are and it speaks loud enough for itself. In fact what does surprise me is the matrimonial. Almost EVERY man is a “good looking boy “with a “handsome salary” and wants “fair”, “slim” and “beautiful” girl. In that case, the mirror cracking material that I am, my chances of getting married are ‘fairly’ ‘slim’. Not that it is matter of concern. But for a lot of women who are melanin rich, life can be hard. 

It does not take a genius to realize that the color of one’s skin or the highness of one’s cheekbone is not one’s sin or virtue. It is not something that one can be blamed of credited for. Beauty is a such a miraculously relative and subjective term that in the world we live, Aishwarya Rai is considered stunning and so is Naomi Campbell.

Frankly I never found my complexion to be a hindrance in my way, and I am sure that no woman does until she faces those well meaning souls that judge her by set standards of beauty that God knows who sets. Who in order to make her life better burry her in a grave of besan, uptan, and the umpteen number of  white and pink tubes. What finally comes out is a woman who will never be confident to walk out in the sun no matter how enchanting her eyes, or how mesmerizing her smile.  And no matter how loved or appreciated she is for the person that is her, that cream will continue to haunt her, as would its manufacturers.

We are a set of people who have fought racial discrimination since a long time. Even now we complain about it when we venture out in The White Man’s Land. But even that guy who has been beaten up by a bunch of white men when studying abroad wants a fair and lovely white, sorry, I meant wife. Does that not demean our entire set of upright principles we keep boasting about?

It is beautiful to be fair, but it is as beautiful to be dark, and what really needs to be beautiful is the person that we are in our hearts. Today you hate the fair Bin Laden (Justin Beiber for a few of us), as much as you love the dark A.R. Rehman /Nelson Mandela/ Desmond Tutu /Nat King Cole / Stevie Wonder....
 I take an example with men, because now they haven’t been spared either. (refer to the hideous "HI HANDSOME" PEHELWAN WITH NAIL POLISH,  AND LIPISHTIK ADD )

As for the fairness cream people, guys you really need to go through a reality check.  Seriously, your towering claims that a girl has the right to live only when she is vampire white are stuff of stand up comedy. You need to work harder with your creative team. And for fairness’ sake, grow up.

As for me, I am pretty comfortable to be me. My mother thinks I am pretty and so do my best friends. My mirror really does not crack at my sight and my dog loves me like hell. Other than that, nothing else seems to bother much. And it shouldn’t bother you too. You are beautiful the way you are and it’s in your own skin that you will grow best. For in all honesty, you really are a woman/man phenomenally.

THE SONG

I wish I did not belong to you.

I would sit on the shores that you dreamt of.

Let the waves embrace my longing feet

And kiss these hands…

Walk across leaving footprints behind

Only to be washed by eager waters

But your memories will never be washed away…

In an unfinished poem, in a book unread

I have found love in your promise unkept.

I would lie on the sands in the morning sun’s warmth

And breathe the happiness of solitude

I would meet that part of me that still

Does not answer the call to my name

For they would bring me closer to the soul

The soul to which you now belong

For I once belonged to you

In an unfinished poem, in a book unread

I have felt your touch, in your promise unkept

I would walk in these woods

Filled with emptiness

Sit under the care of our elderly oak

Listen to the song of a parted lark

And remember you singing to me

For your voice sings no more

And I still belong to you

You breathe in my air, you rush through my veins

You smile in my soul

In an unfinished poem, in a book unread

I have found myself in the promise you kept…